Suicide Season
by krueger84
Summary: Song-fic self challenge to publish a set of stories based on Bring Me The Horizon's "Suicide Season". More will come, also hopefully more song-fic challenge pieces to come too, Muse Incubus etc.
1. The Comedown

The Comedown:

**Basically a Spuffy fan/song-fic self challenge for metalcore fans and buffy fans alike.**

**A/N: Takes place in season 6. Sometime after the first time to be exact ;)**

Buffy was pinned up against a tree, unable to move. The bone blade from the Miquot demon firmly held her sleeves in place as Kulak's orphaned sister Rutek rounded on Buffy, her murderous red eyes glaring down at the slayer.

Tonight was her night. She was claiming vengeance. For her brother. For her clan. For herself.

She was less than 2 paces away from the panicked slayer when a figure shrouded in leather crash tackled the demon. Rutek pushed Spike off of her and shot fresh bone missiles towards him. Spike deflected the bone darts with a makeshift gauntlet, crouching to pick one up that had dropped neatly in front of him. He twirled on the spot and hurled it at Rutek's neck, badly puncturing her cardoid artery. Blood was spraying everywhere as Spike mercifully leapt towards her and snapped her neck.

He walked away, spitting back at her before saying, "It's a good thing I don't drink demon, that could've been a _lot_ slower, pet." His high cheekbones drew in as she smirked at this thought, imagining a human in place of the Miquot.

Buffy glared at Spike as he removed the bone fragments from the elm trunk.

"You alright?" he checked, grabbing the last one and setting her on her feet.

"I'm fine, I guess I just had my mind on the dweevils and she caught me off guard. It was a she, right?" Buffy replied, frowning doubtfully.

"The breasts made me think so, she definitely had the voice of a John though." Spike replied. "I haven't come across many Cumqauts bef-"

"Miquots, Spike. I've only gone up against one, but you'd remember the first one of those." She smiled sardonically to herself.

"Bollocks to that, pet." Spike said offhandedly, edging closer to Buffy's side as they walked through one of Sunnydale's many cemeteries.

"What are you doing, Spike?" Buffy asked perceptively.

"What? You're not keen then? I just figured with all that pent up frustration, and having to rely on me to save your scrawny hide, you might be a bit fretted. You know how much I like to play." He smirked, taking a wistful swipe at her golden hair. Buffy turned to him and glowered.

"Look, that was once, and you know why. I was weak, and you were there." Buffy murmured coldly to his pale face.

"I'm here right now slayer, and quite frankly I'm in the right mood for either." Spike stated.

"Either?"

"Yeah. Either. Either wiping the floor with you, or making it quake with you."

With that, Spike swung a sloppy backhand at her cheek, which Buffy caught easily and twisted harshly, forcing him to his knees. Her eyes raced over the monster before her. He was both her savior and nemesis tonight. She feasted on him, his vulnerability rolling off of him in waves.

"How about both?" She mouthed seductively.

She let his wrist go so he could straighten himself, then grabbed both and pinned him against the headstone behind him. She took his neck in her mouth and sucked roughly, drawing the blood to the surface. He had to resist every urge to do the same, knowing that it was much more dangerous for him to be rough, and not necessarily to her. They fought for position, Buffy finally straddling him and pinning his wrists to the soil they lost themselves to.

Once they were done, Buffy put her screens up and gave him a curt, if not abusive, farewell.

"So what, you're gonna go home and pretend this didn't just happen then. Again!" Spiked asked, frustration showing in his tone.

She turned around, considering his naked form on the cold, soft soil. "I have to pretend."

She gave him one last look. "Until I need it again, at least."

**A/N – Read the lyrics, listen to the song, hear the urgency, the brutality, the desperation. I think it works well. ******

**If you're not all that keen on metalcore, just read the lyrics. ******

**Please review.**


	2. Chelsea Smile

Chelsea Smile:

_I've got a secret,_

_It's on the tip of my tongue,_

_It's on the back of my lungs and,_

_I'm gonna keep it!_

_I know something you don't know!_

Spike was battered, bruised and damn near broken, but he felt alive for the first time in centuries, and he wasn't about to pussy out of a fight. The quintet of undead fiends stalked him to a nearby carnival; the type that was open every weekend on the beach. The perfect place for a young fledgling couple to have their first kiss. It was also the perfect place to be driven to by a young nest of vampires that awoke earlier, very cranky about the fact that Spike's earlier endeavours created quite the racket on their turf.

Spike careened painfully into the now-closed park, tripping and scrambling around a game booth, his back against the wall. He searched his jacket frantically for a stake, but finding nothing of use, drove his elbow into the booth he leant against and picked up one of the oak fragments. He could hear them now, chasing him. They were different from him, wild animals. The gift that Spike had earnt made him feel like a different class of vampire. An elite. A champion. Still, he had more work ahead of him if he wanted to feel like he truly deserved that title; starting with the group of newborns pursuing him through the carnival alleys.

Once he'd waited long enough, he sprang to his feet, a cocky smile broadening his features. The first swing thrown at him was pitiful and he grabbed this vamp by the wrist, using him as leverage to launch a kick to his side, finding its mark in the ribs of a shorter female vamp. He swung back around before hearing her land, throwing haymakers at the first vamp, before revealing his makeshift stake and plunging it deep into his heart.

He twirled his jacket around as the staked vamp disintegrated, flinging the dust into another vampire's eyes. Spike took advantage of the target's disorientation, taking him down with a roundhouse kick to the neck. Before the vamp could return to his feet, his eyes met Spike's. He saw hatred burning in what appeared to be Spike's….no. This warrior was far too strong to be anything but a fellow vampire. His curiosity went unrewarded however, his death swift and dusty.

Two more vamps fell with ease, Spike gaining momentum and confidence despite his weakened condition. At last the female vampire he had first sent flying into a near sideshow stand had returned, apparently waiting for him to tire, whilst taking out the rest of her crew.

He turned towards her, tilting his head slightly to one side.

"Bitch is gonna pay. Get what she deserves." He muttered aloud.

"Make me pay." The female vamp replied, her features morphing into a misshapen sadistic smile.

She ran at Spike and dodged his early parries, delivering a swift knee with his suplex. Spike's wind was knocked out of him, and he fell to his knees. Before he could recover, she dealt him a spinning kick to the temple. Spike fell hard against the dusty cement. The female vampire stood over him, taking in the fallen champion.

"So, Darling, what do I deserve?" She asked innocently. "Cause if it's giving a lame vampire a beating, I have both been there and done that."

His face was pressed hard against the pavement, yet his words came out clearly and succinctly. "You talk like her. You think you're better than me. Deep down, you know you're not though." With this, he rose to his feet. His face was not frenzied and bloodthirsty like it had been moments earlier. He was a picture of quiet wonder. He seemed to look into this vampires face, and then past it, around and through it all at once. This amused him and made him chuckle quietly to himself. He considered her again shortly before springing and taking her by the hair in one hand, his other arm locked over her throat.

"You think you're better than me," he growled in a staccato way to the beat of her attempts of escape from his chokehold. "But you're not pet. You stink of blood and death, and in a second I'll smell of stinking mothballs. You won't know why, you'll never know."

With that he twisted her neck, snapping it in two and ripping her head from her body, looking into her eyes as they turned to dust in his hands.

He took a second to rest and survey the scene, before walking away at a leisurely pace, whistling an old ditty his mum had often sung to him.

**A/N – Awesome song. So far this songfic project had featured the original big bad twice. Is it a shape of things to come? Keep reading and find out. And also review please. I worked on this fic for a whole 20 minutes damnit.**


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